mething of this kind to her; for he knew that she suspected herself of being too ready to find blemishes in others, to the neglect of their better qualities, and that this made her uneasy and also very sensitive to the charge. To-day, however, her own imperfections did not matter to her; she was as nothing to herself just now, and scarcely felt his insinuations.
"I think you were Captain Ure," she said slowly, "and I think you did it, but not as the boy imagines."
"You may be quite sure," he replied, "that I would not have done it had there been the least risk. That, I flatter myself, is how you reason it out."
"It does not explain," she said, "why you kept the matter secret."
"Thank you, Grizel! Well, at least I have not boasted of it."
"No, and that is what makes me----" She paused.
"Go on," said he, "though I can guess what agreeable thing you were going to say."
But she said something else: "You may have noticed that I took the boy aside and questioned him privately."
"I little thought then, Grizel, that you suspected me of being an impostor."
She clenched her hands again; it was all so hard to say, and yet she must say it! "I did not. I saw he believed his story. I was asking him whether you had planned his coming with it to Mrs. McLean's house at that dramatic moment."
"You actually thought me capable of that!"
"It makes me horrid to myself," she replied wofully, "but if I thought you had done that I could more readily believe the rest."
"Very well, Grizel," he said, "go on thinking the worst of me; I would not deprive you of that pleasure if I could."
"Oh, cruel, cruel!" she could have replied; "you know it is no pleasure; you know it is a great pain." But she did not speak.
"I have already told you that the boy's story is true," he said, "and now you ask me why I did not shout it from the housetops myself. Perhaps it was for your sake, Grizel; perhaps it was to save you the distress of knowing that in a momentary impulse I could so far forget myself as to act the part of a man."
She pressed her hands more tightly. "I may be wronging you," she answered; "I should love to think so; but--you have something you want to say to Corp before I see him."
"Not at all," Tommy said; "if you still want to see Corp, let us go together." She hesitated, but she knew how clever he was. "I prefer to go alone," she replied. "Forgive me if I ask you to turn back."
"Don't go," he entreated her. "Grizel, I give you my word of honour it is to save you acute pain that I want to see Corp first." She smiled wanly at that, for though, as we know, it was true, she misunderstood him. He had to let her go on alone.
CHAPTER XII
IN WHICH A COMEDIAN CHALLENGES TRAGEDY TO BOWLS
When Grizel opened the door of Corp's house she found husband and wife at home, the baby in his father's arms; what is more, Gavinia was looking on smiling and saying, "You bonny litlin, you're windy to have him dandling you; and no wonder, for he's a father to be proud o'." Corp was accepting it all with a complacent smirk. Oh, agreeable change since last we were in this house! oh, happy picture of domestic bliss! oh--but no, these are not the words; what we meant to say was, "Gavinia, you limmer, so you have got the better of that man of yours at last."
How had she contrived it? We have seen her escorting the old lady to the Dovecot, Corp skulking behind. Our next peep at them shows Gavinia back at her house, Corp peering through the window and wondering whether he dare venture in. Gavinia was still bothered, for though she knew now the story of Tommy's heroism, there was no glove in it, and it was the glove that maddened her.
"No, I ken nothing about a glove," the old lady had assured her.
"Not a sylup was said about a glove," maintained Christina, who had given her a highly coloured narrative of what took place in Mrs. McLean's parlour.
"And yet there's a glove in't as sure as there's a quirk in't," Gavinia kept muttering to herself. She rose to have another look at the hoddy-place in which she had concealed the glove from her husband, and as she did so she caught sight of him at the window.